


Lessons You Can't Just Learn

by pavonine



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pavonine/pseuds/pavonine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks' desk duty gives Nick Wilde a lot of time to work on his case reports. Naturally, he turns it into a con and ropes Judy into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons You Can't Just Learn

**Author's Note:**

> It may or may not be illegal for officers of the law to do each other's case reports. For the sake of story, let's assume it's just Highly Frowned Upon here, and Nick just doesn't feel like typing up written notes into a neat and proper format. Because, really, the horror.

None of the stereotypes about foxes were very flattering. They were shifty, they were devious, they'd steal the spots off a cheetah before you had time to blink. They didn't care much for others. They're nocturnal because thieves worked better in the night, under the sweeping cover of darkness. They're charming because they always had an agenda. They're lazy, just because.

That one fit Nick at least a little—he certainly didn't like to do work if he didn't _have_ to do it. Not to disparage his work ethic, which Judy was surprised to learn he had (and then a little ashamed of being surprised, because no one puts in twenty years of con artistry without developing _some_ kind of appreciation for the grind), but if given the choice between doing an honest day's (tedious, boring) work, and figuring out a clever, easier (lazier) way to do it, 99% of the time he'd take the easy way out.

"'Hire a lazy mammal to do a difficult job,' my _tail_ ," Bogo had grunted, with a gruff little snort, when he learned that Nick had tied GoPaws to the trolleys that whisked around Little Rodentia, in lieu of actually patrolling the tiny town himself. "Two weeks' desk duty, Wilde. We don't need our citizens to think they're being _spied_ on."

Nick said he took it as a sort-of compliment.

"Oof, desk duty," Judy said, with a grimace that tried for sympathetic and hit amusement instead. "I told you the GoPaws were a bad idea." Nick was still frowning, so she leaned up on the tips of her toes and nuzzled him, very briefly (it was still so _new_ ). "You learn your lesson?"

"Probably not," Nick said, once he'd come back to his senses.

"Well, at least you tried," Judy said sagely, and Nick's ears drooped.

Desk duty.

Judy gave him two days tops before he cracked.

—

Word had spread by the end of the day, so it wasn't much of a surprise the next day when coworkers started slowing down around their cubicle, purposely navigating nearer to it. Probably coming to gawk, Judy thought, her little mouth scrunching up into a frown.

Nick didn't actually notice it, diligently typing up a case report. See? Work ethic. He could do it if he _really_ wanted to (or had nothing else to do, in this case), it was just _much_ more soul-sucking and horrible and _tedious_ than actually being out on the streets.

"You're bored."

"I'm fine," Judy said primly, perking up in her seat. "Pass me the O'Hare file?"

"You know, you're not the one stuck being a desk jockey for two weeks," Nick said, pointing a chewed-up pen at her. " _You_ can go."

"And what sort of a partner would that make me, hmm?"

"A sane one?"

"Nick, it's _fine_ ," Judy said, getting the file herself— _ugh_ , this one was annoying. Insurance claims were a special hell unto themselves. "If you can do desk duty, then so can I."

"I _have_ to do it, Carrots," Nick said, plucking the file back out of her paws. "What you're doing? Legal grounds for insanity."

Judy said nothing, because she really didn't want to type up that report. So much legalese. So much double- and triple-checking numbers. Such tiny, _tiny_ font.

" _Insanity_ , Hopps. And I don't think conjugal visits are a thing at the insane asylum, so I suggest you get out," with a paw he gently rolled her chair towards the cubicle opening, "enjoy the sunshine, and allow me to live vicariously through you for a couple of weeks, okay?"

"Nick—"

" _Okay?_ "

She huffed. And frowned. And Nick stared her down.

"The O'Hare file needs to be in by five tonight," she said quickly, before barrelling out of the precinct, like an arrow loosed from the bow.

Sweet, _sweet_ freedom.

—

It may have been overcompensation to round up and practically terrify three gangly caribou youths for tagging the abandoned movie theater near the edge of the Meadowlands, but it made up for spending almost half a day with her eyes glazed over in front of a computer screen, and anyway, she was _pretty_ sure those kids wouldn't even go near a set of used _watercolors_ for all the talking-to she gave them. So it was probably worth it in the end. She stopped at a coffee shop - passion fruit tea for her, a triple calfuccino for Nick - and all but bounced back to the precinct.

"Ready to go home? I had time on my way back, so I stopped at a coffee place and got… us… Nick?" Nowhere to be seen; their cubicle was an empty gray fallout shelter.

But she could hear laughing nearby; Nick's warm, sharp bark, and the deep, low rumbling of… who was that, exactly? One ear pricked up, she slipped back out into the hallway and rounded a corner, where Nick was leaned up against a wall, casual as you please with his paws jammed in his dark pockets. He was grinning at a laughing Francine, who had her trunk slapped around his shoulder like she was his best friend in the world.

Which was already taken, but never mind that. Judy strolled right up. "There you are."

Nick tilted towards her, and his eyes lit up—which was unfair because it _always_ made her heart flutter and he probably knew that and did it on purpose. "Hey, Hopps. You've met Francine, right?"

"Worked here a whole year before you did, _Wilde_ ," Judy said, smiling a little too hard, too stretched thin. Francine laughed again, and roughly shook Nick's shoulder.

"Nice talkin' with ya, Wilde," she said. "Good catch on the O'Hare file, by the way." She hustled off, and left Judy to stare at Nick in serious confusion.

"Not the O'Hare file _I_ gave you, right? Earlier this morning?"

Nick hummed, and gestured to the cup in Judy's paw. "Mine?"

She held it out of his reach for the moment. "What about the O'Hare file?"

"Got it thrown out," Nick said easily.

Judy's stare widened to comical proportions. "You got it _thrown out_ ," she repeated.

"It happens," Nick said, "too bad so sad, now may I please have my calfuccino?"

"You _can't_ just throw out a case file because you don't want to do it," Judy said sternly. Briefly, she considered dumping out Nick's drink in front of him, just because she didn't want to reward him for bad behavior.

Nick frowned at her for a moment. "You don't think I'm that bad, do you?" he said, and before Judy had time to answer, "I went over his statement again. O'Hare claimed you could make a right on red at the intersection his car got hit. Francine, _who happens to live on that street_ , says otherwise. And so do all the signs posted around that street." He eyed her for a moment, almost with disappointment. "There you go, Carrots, got your stupid insurance claim thrown out for you. You're _welcome_."

Nick wasn't all that much taller than her, when you counted her ears (and she always counted her ears). But sometimes, he had the ability to make her feel very, very small.

She all but shoved his drink at him.

—

She took her time leaving their cubicle the next morning.

In the short time since Nick's official sentencing from Bogo was handed down, Judy discovered that Nick now had a stream of visitors—practically _regulars_ at this point—who came to visit him. It wasn't for sympathy, either; it was all for casual small talk, but it seemed so easy, so natural, like Nick had been a fixture at that very desk for years, the go-to guy when anyone just wanted to chat.

It was worse than an episode of _Swinefeld_.

"You leavin', Hopps?" Delgato tossed over his shoulder, as she shoved her cruiser's keys in a spare utility pocket.

"I'll be back," she said, without looking behind her. But she was listening—for a heartfelt "All right, I'll be here waiting" or "Hurry back soon, Judy," neither of which she got. Nick turned the conversation back to a case.

Either way, though, bitterness did not sit well in a Hopps, and midway through her patrol the pit of Judy's stomach had twisted and untwisted itself more than a pretzel at the county fair. And anyway, she was happy, genuinely happy, that Nick fit in so well at work. That he finally belonged somewhere. It made him happy, and that made _her_ happy, so what was—

_do me a favor?_

Texting while driving—illegal, and also dangerous. Judy pulled onto the shoulder and switched her hazards on. _What's up?_

_mind picking me up an order of fried crickets? preferably from bugbunda_

Which was all the way over in the Rainforest District. In the middle of rush hour. _Can it wait until later? I'm in Sahara Square._

 _judy. please?_ She scowled at her phone for a moment. If he used her name more often, you know, like _normal_ couples did, then it wouldn't be so special when he called her Judy—just Judy. Which was also probably why he did it. _i'm stuck here late_

_… How late is late? I can stop by later and help you finish, if you need it._

_not that late_ , Nick texted after a moment. _pretty please? with a cherry on top?_

Judy sighed, and tossed her phone into the passenger seat, then gently backed into traffic, toying with the idea of putting on her lights to make the drive to the Rainforest District go just a little faster.

—

"You're a _wonder_ ," Nick said, gratefully accepting the white Styrofoam carton. "Did you speed?"

" _No_." Sirens didn't count. Cops ran routine siren tests all the time.

"Even more impressive." Nick went back to his desk and sat the carton down on a stack of printer paper. And then didn't touch it.

Leaning against the cube wall, Judy crossed her arms. "Well?"

"Hm? Oh." Nick kissed her cheek, and gave her half a smile. "Sorry."

She scowled. "Not _that_."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Then I don't know what—oh. Why, _Judith._ " He fluttered a paw to his chest, a scandalized grin on his lips. "As flattered as I am, and I am very, very flattered, I think these walls are a little thin. Unless you're just that sort of bunny, in which case—"

"You're not hungry?"

Nick blinked, and glanced back at the carton, like he'd just remembered it was there. "Oh. Not really."

"So I drove all the way out to the Rainforest District to get you your fried crickets—and you're not even hungry?"

"I never said they were for me," Nick said, with a knowing look, and before Judy had time to even formulate any sort of question—

"Someone order fried crickets?" Brushing past Judy like she didn't even exist, Delgato strolled into their cubicle, a ravenous glint in his eyes. When he saw the white carton, hot and still steaming, his mouth actually watered.

Nick gestured like Delgato had just won big on _Seal of Fortune_. "As promised."

"And they say you foxes are all a buncha liars." Nick's lips tightened in a grimace, but he quickly regained ground. "I owe you big, my wife never lets me bring these home anymore—"

"And _speaking_ of owing big," Nick said knowingly, and Delgato 'ah'ed and nodded. "By tonight?"

"Wilde, you could have wanted 'em yesterday and I'd get it done," Delgato said, flipping open the carton. He breathed in deeply and groaned, in a way that made Judy more than a little uncomfortable. "Swing by before you leave."

"Appreciate it!" Nick singsonged, as Delgato left with his prize and his tail held high. Judy pushed herself off the cubicle wall, staring in a slow line from Delgato's thick, retreating form to Nick, who was really far too pleased with himself.

"What was that," she asked, carefully neutral.

"His wife's trying to get him to eat healthier, so he can really only cheat at work, but he can't get away today so _I_ offered—"

"To send me out on a fried cricket run," Judy finished.

"Well, when you put it like _that_ … yep," Nick said, with a prideful whisk of his tail.

Judy rolled her eyes, almost too tired, too… _unimpressed_ to continue. "For what?"

"Three case reports, done today before we leave," Nick said, and he held up three digits. "Two of mine, one of yours."

"That's a little unfair."

"Well, who's the criminal mastermind here, you or me?"

" _I_ got the crickets."

"And _I_ thought to ask you, _and_ it was my idea, so I did twice the work you did, which makes it _perfectly_ fair, thank you very much."

Judy scowled, thumped her foot twice. "Which one of mine did you give him?"

Nick paused a moment, nose twitching. His face was a blank mask. "Leatherpaw murders."

Judy's heart, usually racing along at a comfortable pace, sputtered. She had had her first work-related nightmare about some of the official crime scene pictures. And then another. And then another, for good measure.

Nick nodded. "Thought you wouldn't mind," he said quietly. "Delgato said it wouldn't be a problem for him."

"No, I—thank you," Judy said, twisting her fingers around in her paws.

Nick blinked at her. Looked her over carefully, still blank-faced. All except for the eyes, which had softened a considerable degree. "Sure thing, Judy," he said.

—

Case reports slipped out of the Wilde/Hopps cubicle like ants at a picnic—first one, then another, and then they actually had to start rationing files before Nick had _literally_ nothing to do. For all their extra work, their coworkers never once seemed to complain—Grizzoli's new conditioner left his mane softer and bushier than ever. Mustelo's cologne drew compliments from half the staff. Greyhold came back not even two hours later promising five reports a _day_ for more of the imported trunk lotion Nick had so thoughtfully picked out for her.

And, for all her worry that Nick would be bored and start clawing at the walls, he was almost busier than if he were out on the streets with her—tallying who had what report, what they'd asked for, who on the outside owed him a favor he could cash in. By the fifth day, they'd even hashed out a rough system, Nick collecting a list of places in the morning for Judy to hit up that were all, _ever so coincidentally_ , near her patrol route for the day, Judy like the Easter bunny, delivering gifts to all the good little officers at the end of the day. He was far more diligent about it than Judy had ever expected—and for once, she didn't mind him proving her so completely wrong. Morale at the ZPD, in short, had taken a sharp upwards swing.

(Judy did draw the line at sneaking in a copy of _Howler._ "I am _not_ getting that, Nick."

"Judy, come on, it's just a magazine."

"An _adult_ magazine _._ Full of _naked wolves._ _Wolves_ _who are_ _naked_. _No._ "

"It's not like you're the one who's gonna paw off to it later," Nick had sniffed, and Judy's ears had turned bright red. Images she did _not_ need in her head, thank you.

Fangmeyer had settled, somewhat reluctantly, for Moose Springsteen tickets.)

And if she were being honest with herself, Judy felt _good_. Her coworkers were getting little things they wanted, her and Nick's case files were flying out the door in record time—the worst part about being a cop was the paperwork, and this was almost like a game, figuring out what everyone wanted, how to get the supply to meet the demand. Win-win for everyone, _especially_ because it was all, technically, legal.

More or less legal.

… Probably.

"Fun, isn't it," Nick said as they walked out of the precinct one evening, gently bumping her shoulder with his.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Judy said lightly. There was a skip in her step. She heard Nick's chuckle to her right, dark and wild and _warm_ , and her heart fluttered a little.

The Friday before Nick was officially released back into the streets of Zootopia, Judy wasn't actually at the precinct until later in the afternoon, after surviving a stakeout with Mustelo (to whom no one had apparently explained the concept of _moderation_ ). Pushing into the cube farm, exhausted and reeking of cologne, she was all but ready to collapse at her desk—

Except it was currently occupied by a lynx.

A very pretty lynx.

Who was staring at Officer Wilde like he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Judy blinked—nope, the lynx wasn't a hallucination. She cleared her throat. "Hi."

Nick's gaze darted to her, lighting up in a way that never failed to make Judy's heart do funny binkies all over the place. The lynx took her time, drawing amber eyes up and down Judy's small, overly-perfumed body. Her elegant nose wrinkled, an involuntary reaction to the stink of skunk cologne, and all of a sudden, Judy just wanted to go _home_.

"Lana, I'm sure you know my partner, Officer Judy Hopps," Nick said, startling Judy out of her thoughts.

"Only by reputation," Lana said, rising in one smooth motion, tactical body suit barely even whispering as she moved. She offered Judy one large, tufted paw. "Special Agent Pardina. It's so wonderful to finally meet the famed hero herself."

"Well, it was really—I mean, thank you," Judy said. Special Agent Lana Pardina's paw dwarfed hers.

"You really must tell me all about it sometime," Lana said, smiling warmly. "But unfortunately, that won't be tonight." She rose, and rose and rose—or maybe it was just the general tuftiness making her seem bigger than usual. "Officer Wilde, the file?"

In one fluid move, Nick had slipped the file from their now-paltry _In_ box straight into Lana's waiting paw. "Really, can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure," Lana purred, giving Nick a playful flick of her tail. "Have a good night, both of you." She sauntered out of the cubicle like she'd always been here, like she owned the hallway, the offices, the precinct—and for a moment Judy envied her deeply, a sharp shock of something green and ugly.

"She's nice," Nick said, after a moment.

"Which one was that? The case file, I mean."

"The new one—drug trafficking in Tundratown? Lana's working on a related case, so—"

"What'd she want for it?" Judy asked quickly. She never quite met Nick's eye, and gazed off at the wall just behind his ear. _Besides you._

Nick shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Swear on my life, rabbit," Nick said, standing, rolling his spine until it cracked with a satisfactory _pop_. "Which, hey, more power to her."

"She didn't say anything like," and Judy lowered her voice to a bad, raspy parody of Lana's deep husk, "'Oh, hey Officer Wilde, I'll write up your report, consider it a _favor_ if you know what I mean.'"

"Okay, one, she doesn't sound like a pack-a-day camel," Nick said. "And two, _what_?"

Judy shrugged. "Nothing. Never mind. Ready to go home?"

"Yeah, not nothing." Nick's gaze sharpened. He stepped closer, into Judy's personal space—saying nothing about the heavy stink of cologne, instead choosing to stare at her like a specimen under the plate. "Spill, Hopps."

Since Nick would just hound her about it even after they got home, and since Judy was _really_ tired, "She was into you, Nick. You couldn't tell?"

"Oh." Nick frowned, unsurprised—not even a little weirded out. "That all?"

"That's kind of a lot of _all_."

Nick opened his mouth, then shut it, with a sudden white flash of a grin. "You're jealous."

"I'm not _jealous_."

"Right, of course not. Oh, by the way, mind if Lana—sorry, _Special Agent Pardina_ —stopped by our apartment tomorrow night? She asked me if I wanted to go over _details_ with her," and he waggled his eyebrows on _details_ , proving once and for all that there was no word or phrase Nick couldn't make sound suggestive and _wrong_ if he wanted to.

"Details."

"Oh yeah. Special details. _Private_ details." He grinned wickedly, and leaned closer. "Said she wanted the _naked truth._ "

"I am not jealous of some slinky _lynx_!" Judy shouted.

A nearby Francine glanced at her in passing bewilderment.

"You really don't have a reason to be," Nick said, folding his arms across his chest. Which gave Judy some pause. "She _is_ married."

Oh. Judy… deflated, somewhat. Hard to hold onto righteous anger when… yeah. "That's… nice," she said.

"And," Nick hooked a paw behind her waist and gently tugged her closer, until she just brushed against him, "I'm with you." He flicked his tail around Judy's legs, the brush of it tickling her lower back through her uniform. "Never planned on being with anybody else."

Judy blinked up at him. "Never _ever?_ "

A light shrug. "Not after the first dozen or so times you saved my life," he said. "Kinda hard to top that one."

"Baker's dozen," Judy mumbled, leaning slowly into Nick's shirt. He smelled like office supplies and espresso and wild, the kind of musky scent that you only ever picked up if you were really, really close to him. She breathed in, deeply. "That could top it."

"And put you out of a job? I would never." Nick glanced down at her, slipping his other arm around her small body. She returned the sentiment by clinging to him like a limpet. "Don't worry about me, Carrots. I'm spoken for and everybody knows it."

"Not _you_ I have to worry about." Was that a twinge of bitterness in her voice? No, not it was not. Just tiredness. From a long, long day.

"Well, no."

"You sound real proud of yourself." Nick chuckled, and Judy could feel it, the deep, warm vibrations rumbling against her cheek. "You _were_ joking about her coming over tomorrow, right?"

"Of course I was."

Judy sighed, and rubbed her cheek against Nick's shirt. "I smell horrible," she said into the warm fabric.

Nick hummed in agreement. "What are we thinking, three showers or four?"

"Five."

"Now that's just excessive."

She laughed a little, and breathed in his scent again, shutting her eyes. "You wanna join me?"

"We'll see after the third one," Nick told her. "You reek."

Judy sagged against him. It was true, after all. Nick patted her shoulders gently, in sympathy.

—

Bogo stared at Nick for a long, incredulous moment. "You mean to tell me," he began slowly, "that you finished both your reports _and_ Hopps's—as in one hundred percent completed and properly filed away—in two weeks time? _Alone?_ "

"Yessir!" Nick chirped, and then, because Bogo's heavy brow had shifted into a deep scowl, "I _had_ nothing else to do." Eavesdropping outside, Judy smiled to herself; he sounded innocent, helpful, and trustworthy, exactly like she would sound.

As she'd coached him to, naturally.

"And your story will hold if I personally went around and asked your coworkers whether they saw you, dutifully typing up each and every report like a good little fox, behind that desk every day for the past two weeks, right?"

Nick gave Bogo his best, most winningest smile, the one reserved for middle-aged mothers with children and dangerous-looking chiefs of police. " _Absolutely_."

Bogo gave him a long, hard look. Then he grunted, flicking his tail in annoyance. "Not worth my time. Dismissed."

"That went well," Judy said, pushing off the wall as Nick walked out. "I think he's actually proud of you."

"Good one, Hopps." Nick was still smiling, tail hanging loose and relaxed. "I was just doing what I could to help the good mammals of Zootopia, ma'am."

"Including running the ZPD's first black market."

"It's only a black market if money is exchanged for goods or services," Nick said, slipping on his wayfarers as they walked out into the sunshine, free for the rest of the afternoon. "Illegal goods or services, neither of which I deal in. I believe I was just doing everyone a favor. One that they chose, of their own volition, to independently return as a sign of faith and goodwill."

"Why, Officer Wilde, that almost sounded _smart_."

"Hold your applause until the end."

She shrugged, open-pawed. "You can take the fox out of the streets—"

"But you can't take the street out of the fox." His tail brushed against hers. "And yet, all good things must come to an end."

"Thank _God_. If I ever even _look_ at daffodils or cypress again, forget about _smelling_ it—" Judy shuddered, and Nick chuckled besides her. She jostled his arm with her shoulder. "You know, you ran a pretty tight ship back there. I was impressed."

Nick actually stopped in his tracks, and the insides of his ears flushed a bright pink.  

"Too bad you can't keep it going forever," Judy continued, giving him a wistful little smile. "It was nice not having to worry about reports for a while."

"All in an honest day's work, Officer Hopps," Nick said, reaching her car and opening up the driver's door with a flourish. "After you."

"Seriously," Judy said, instead of going in. "I actually enjoyed myself."

She could barely make out Nick staring at her from behind his sunglasses, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. So she did what she always did every time she said something that Nick never expected, something that made him look at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him, briefly, smiling.

"Ready to go home?" she said after a moment, secretly pleased.

"… We can probably start a catalog," Nick muttered, slipping around to the passenger side. "Offer an initial range of products, expand once we get some feedback. There's a junkyard by the southern entrance to the Nocturnal District, could use that as storage for a bit."

"Hmm." That would _definitely_ get shut down without taking the proper precautions. "You know of anything Bogo might like? In case he catches wind of this whole Not A Black Market we're totally gonna set up."

"Thinking three steps ahead. A rabbit after my own heart," Nick said breathlessly, clutching Judy's paw to his chest.

"Learned from the best, didn't I?"

Nick kissed her paw without _too_ much dramatic effect for that.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr link to this fic: caroline-decker.tumblr.com/post/145077465602/


End file.
